Brigands of the Moon Part 7

"Tell him to try it again, Venza! I'll talk with him. No! I'd better let him alone. Can you get him to keep his mouth shut?"

"I think he might do anything I told him. He's a man!"

"Find out what you can."

She drew away from me abruptly. "There's Anita and George Prince."

They came to the corner of the deck, but turned back. Venza caught my look. And understood it.

"You do love Anita Prince, Gregg?" Venza was smiling. "I wish you....

I wish some man handsome as you would gaze after me like that." She turned solemn. "You may be interested to know, she loves you. I could see it. I knew it when I mentioned you to her this morning."

"Me? Why we've hardly spoken!"

"Is it necessary? I never heard that it was."

I could not see Venza's face; she stood up suddenly. And when I rose beside her, she whispered, "We should not be seen talking so long.

I'll find out what I can."

I stared after her slight robed figure as she turned into the lounge archway and vanished.

VI

Captain Carter was grim. "So they've bought him off, have they? Go bring him in here, Gregg. We'll have it out with him now."

Snap, Dr. Frank, Balch, our first officer, and I were in the Captain's chart room. It was four P.M. Earth time. We were sixteen hours upon our voyage.

I found Johnson in his office in the lounge. "Captain wants to see you. Close up."

He closed his window upon an American woman pa.s.senger who was demanding the details of Martian currency, and followed me forward.

"What is it, Gregg?"

"I don't know."

Captain Carter banged the slide upon us. The chart room was insulated.

The hum of the current was obvious. Johnson noticed it. He stared at the hostile faces of the surgeon and Balch. And he tried to bl.u.s.ter.

"What's this? Something wrong?"

Carter wasted no words. "We have information, Johnson, that there's some undercover plot aboard. I want to know what it is. Suppose you tell us."

The purser looked blank. "What do you mean? We've gamblers aboard, if that's--"

"To h.e.l.l with that," growled Balch. "You had a secret interview with that Martian, _Set_ Miko, and with George Prince!"

Johnson scowled from under his heavy brows, and then raised them in surprise. "Did I? You mean changing their money? I don't like your tone, Balch. I'm not your under-officer!"

"But you're under me!" roared the Captain. "By G.o.d, I'm master here!"

"Well, I'm not disputing that," said the purser mildly. "This fellow--"

"We're in no mood for argument," Dr. Frank cut in. "Clouding the issue...."

"I won't let it be clouded," the Captain exclaimed.

I had never seen Carter so choleric. He added:

"Johnson, you've been acting suspiciously. I don't give a d.a.m.n whether I've proof of it or not. Did you or did you not meet George Prince and that Martian, last night?"

"No, I did not. And I don't mind telling you, Captain Carter, that your tone also is offensive!"

"Is it?" Carter seized him. They were both big men. Johnson's heavy face went purplish red.

"Take your hands--!" They were struggling. Carter's hands were fumbling at the purser's pockets. I leaped, flung an arm around Johnson's neck, pinning him.

"Easy there! We've got you, Johnson!"

Snap tried to help me. "Go on! Bang him on the head, Gregg. Now's your chance!"

We searched him. A heat ray cylinder--that was legitimate. But we found a small battery and eavesdropping device similar to the one Venza had mentioned that Shac the gambler was carrying.

"What are you doing with that?" the Captain demanded.

"None of your business! Is it criminal? Carter, I'll have the line officials dismiss you for this! Take your hands off me--all of you!"

"Look at this!" exclaimed Dr. Frank.

From Johnson's breast pocket the surgeon drew a folded doc.u.ment. It was a scale drawing of the _Planetara_ interior corridors, the lower control rooms and mechanisms. It was always kept in Johnson's safe.

And with it, another doc.u.ment: the s.h.i.+p's clearance papers--the secret code pa.s.swords for this voyage, to be used if we should be challenged by any Interplanetary Police s.h.i.+p.

Snap gasped, "My G.o.d, that was in my radio room strong box! I'm the only one on this vessel except the Captain who's ent.i.tled to know those pa.s.swords!"

Out of the silence, Balch demanded, "Well, what about it, Johnson?"

The purser was still defiant. "I won't answer your questions, Balch.

At the proper time, I'll explain--Gregg Haljan, you're choking me!"

I eased up. But I shook him. "You'd better talk."

He was exasperatingly silent.

"Enough!" exploded Carter. "He can explain when we get to port.

Meanwhile I'll put him where he'll do no more harm. Gregg, lock him in the cage."